Summitmist Manor: Of Trust and Terror
by Blade for Hire
Summary: Ocheeva was right when she said I was going to enjoy this contract. Five marks, locked in a house, and my blade thristing for blood. This was going to be a good day.


Summitmist Manor: Of Trust and Terror

I walked into the manor, carefully putting the door key into my pocket as I heard the lock latch behind me. I didn't go two steps before one of the marks, an old woman, walked up to me with a mind to chat, wanting to know who I was and why I was here. Poor old fool. She thought I was joking when I told her I was an assassin hired to kill her. Amazing just how little people will believe the honest truth.

I met and talked with all the guests that evening. I spoke to an Imperial, Primo Antonius was his name. The pompous whelp didn't know just how much his attitude made me want to plunge my blade into his throat right then and there. His time would come, and then humility would be the least of his concerns.

I talked to a Nord after that. Nels the Naughty they called him. He and I hit it off immediately. He was my kind of guy. A little more inebriated than myself, of course, and I turned down his offers for a drink of mead several times. He treated me as though we were lifelong friends, even going so far as to tell me the full story of why they called him "Naughty". With how much he drank, at least I know they won't need embalming for his body.

I restrained the curse on my tongue for the legionnaire I spoke to next. Neville, his name was Neville. Such an elegant name for a Redguard. It took much of my self-discipline to keep my hand from twitching to my blade on my belt while speaking to him. I heard him out, but all that crossed my mind was that I would enjoy snuffing him out all too much.

Last was my favorite, the Dunmer girl. So young, so beautiful, so naïve, so unaware of just how precarious life can be. When her time came, for the first time in my life, I just might actually regret taking someone's life.

But then, why start now?

I spoke with everyone that evening. I learned them, listened to them, deciphered every quirk and oddity about each one. I learned them all. I learned the old Breton woman held an unfounded dislike for Dunmer. I learned the Nord despised the Legion and everything it stands for. I learned the young Imperial held something of an affectionate infatuation for the Dunmer wench. That could prove useful when the time came. Through all of it, they had no idea I was sizing each of them up for a coffin.

Under the guise that the journey here had tired me out, I retired earlier than everyone else that evening. I awoke in the dead of night, about an hour past midnight, when I knew everyone else had gone to sleep. I took my shortsword from the nightstand next to my bed and pulled it from its sheath. The steel was cold and thirsting for blood. Tonight, its thirst would be sated, for now. The Nord slept soundly on the other bed in the room, but I put off his death for later. I knew fully well if I slew him now, the survivors would begin to suspect me immediately. I slipped from the room on feet of silence as I prowled down the hallway, searching for a likely door. The first door I came to was the women's chamber, the Dunmer and the Breton both sleeping softly in their beds. Not yet, for either of them. The Breton was too feeble and the Dunmer too innocent to take the life of her roommate.

I closed the door and opened the one across the hall. As process of elimination determined, the Imperial and the legionnaire slept in here. I was aware of the smile that curled onto my lips. It was perfect. Kill one and cast conjecture upon the other. I slithered into the room noiselessly and chose which one would die tonight. Instinct said the legionnaire should go first. He was a trained warrior, and could pose a threat should this drama unravel. Besides, I might become too eager for his death later on and slip up somehow in my zeal. I slinked up next to his bed and behind him. In a well-practiced motion, I slipped my free hand over his mouth to silence his scream while I raked my blade across his throat. I think he awoke for a brief moment before he slipped into death's sweet embrace. I gathered the sheets around his bleeding neck to make sure the blood wouldn't spill too far before morning. With the impromptu cleanup done, I left my marker, a single gold coin with some of his blood on it, in his hand. I turned around to check on the sleeping Imperial. He had heard none of my work and was still soundly asleep. I cleaned my blade off in the sheets and silently left the room. I returned to my room where I put my satisfied blade back in its sheath before returning to my own bed for the rest of the night.

I awoke the next morning to the frantic screams of the young Imperial as he ran down the hall away from his room. When the Nord took hold of him, he dribbled something about a horrible crime and a dead body in his room. We all went to look into the disturbance to our morning. The Breton woman gasped at the gruesome sight while the Dunmer girl turned out into the hallway to vomit. The affrighted Imperial just stood there, a distant look haunting his face. I pretended to be disgusted with the sight while the Nord looked over the body. He took the coin from the legionnaire's hand and showed it to everyone else, asking what the others thought it meant. Apparently, they'd never heard of blood money before.

The Nord was the only one with the stomach to dispose of the body while everyone else conferred with one another, wondering who could have committed such a horrible act. After dispersing, taking each person aside revealed that everyone had there own ideas of who did it.

None of them included me. Perfect.

The Nord was glad the legionnaire was gone, but still concerned that a trained warrior had fallen so easily. He had his own ideas that the young Imperial might have elminiated the Redgard's to limit competition over that nonexistent treasure chest they were looking for. I also noted that he displayed an unusual protection for the naïve Dunmer. That could prove useful when the time came.

The Imperial whelp was too shaken to say much. He was simply terrified that the Redguard had been removed from this life so close to him and he never heard a sound. It took all of my discipline to suppress the chuckle that desperately wanted to escape my throat.

Turns out the Breton was infatuated with the legionnaire and was fairly distraught at his untimely demise. She feared for everyone, especially the whelp for some odd reason. I took a quiet sniff through my nose as she walked away, savoring the smell of the fear that lifted off her skin.

The prissy little Dunmer was almost as shaken as the Imperial. She'd never even seen blood before, let alone this much, not to mention a fresh corpse. She felt faint at the sight of the bloody sheets and left to go lie down. Soon, child. Soon you'll have nothing to be afraid of.

Everyone continued their search for the nonexistent treasure, but not without snatching glances over their shoulders to see if anyone was coming up behind them. As we searched the house, I continued to eavesdrop and size up the other guests. I heard murmurs amongst them, futile speculations about who could have killed the Redguard so quietly, so completely. I smiled to myself as I pretended to search a book case. I had them right where I wanted them after the first kill. As the dying continued, soon this little pseudo family would rip itself apart without any help from me.

I found my next chance and my mark when the prissy little naïve Dunmer started to file through another shelf nearby me. I carefully struck up conversation and directed it toward the young Imperial whelp who seemed so smitten over her. I found her death knell when I discovered that she was quite flattered at his attraction to her. As evening drew closer, we continued to speak of the pompous rich boy. I dropped as many good words in for him as were necessary to goad her attraction to him. Poor thing. She never knew she was just being fattened up for the slaughter. I topped off the delicacy by suggesting that she wait for the rich boy in his room to surprise him. The poor dear fell for it as she thanked me for the idea and turned to head upstairs. I suppressed a smile, knowing more pleasurable moments waited.

I concluded my "search" and made my way upstairs for another early evening retirement. I closed the stairwell door behind and unsheathed my blade as I quietly stalked down the hall, the quiet ring of the steel baying for blood. I opened the door to the Imperial's room just loud enough so she'd know someone was entering. She assumed it was the rich boy and kept her back to me in gleeful anticipation. She began to turn around as I closed the distance with her. She saw me just in time as I grabbed her neck and jammed by blade into her gut. I carefully pressed my thumb into her throat to prevent her vocal cords from tightening enough to make any sound. The shock plainly showed on her face as she sunk to the floor, her dying gasp escaping as death accepted her into his care. I knelt down beside her and touched both sides of a gold coin to the bleeding wound before setting it in her petite hand. I looked down at her for a moment and took the time to close her eyes. As I looked at her, she just seemed so young, so beautiful, so innocent that I almost regretted killing her the way I had.

Almost.

After cleaning my blade on her dress, I rose and left the room, closing the door behind me. I went to my room and started preparing for bed. It wasn't long before the young Imperial's panicked screams chorused through the hallway a second time. He backed into a corner at the opposite end of the hall from his room and pointed at the door with a shaking hand, blithering something about a horror and a curse. We all investigated to find the fresh body of the young Dunmer wench decorating the carpet with her blood, the coin in her hand. The Nord seemed particularly distraught at the girl's death, leaving the room muttering something about his daughter under his breath. The Breton wasn't tremendously displeased at the loss, copping something of a "better that she's gone" attitude.

The spoiled rich boy didn't stay shaken for long before his terror replaced itself with something of an unbridled anger. He started flying off the handle about how the girl's death was such an atrocity against nature and how the one responsible would have to answer to him when he found them. If he only knew how close he really was to the true culprit.

Two down, three to go.

I was truly surprised that they didn't start to suspect me at this point, because in light of two murders, I was the only one who could sleep soundly through the night. The next morning, I came out of my room to tired eyes that hadn't slept well the night before. I suppressed another smile as I amazed at the effects of fear on the physical anatomy.

I knew I had to vary my method this time. Before long, they would start to guess my patterns and be ready for me next time I struck. A broad daylight kill was the order of the day. A kill during waking hours was substantially more difficult because, quite often, the target wouldn't sit still. They would keep moving about the house, making it sorely difficult to find a private place to perform the lethal act. To compound the problem, my previous work was a little too effective. The remaining guests were in fear for their lives and wouldn't leave each other's company for nearly any reason. Survival instinct said strength in numbers, meaning they would stay grouped if at all possible. But as the old maxim goes, "the patient hunter gets the prey". I just needed to wait. Wait and watch while they cowered in each other's presence, waiting for that one opportunity to strike. I kept aloof from the remaining three under the pretense that I was looking for secret passages around the house, places the killer could use to get in and out without anyone knowing. It was surprising just how well the lie flew with them.

I kept my eye on the huddled mass of human flesh, observing their distinct behaviors. The Nord seemed angry, remaining silent, but a determination burned in his eyes like a fire. The spoiled rich boy was more vocal and less concealing of his anger. He often muttered to himself, tended to lashing out at the other two when they tried to help him, and shot an occasional scowl at the old Breton woman. My speculation told me that he thought with her previous attempts to coddle and mother him, she deemed the Dunmer wench unfit for his company and did away with her. Whatever he thought, I just knew I could use that anger later.

The opportunity came when the old Breton woman excused herself from the others to use the necessities. I moved my "search" over toward the basement door. There was only one way into the basement. She had to come out sooner or later. I positioned myself behind the door when I heard the latch rattle. I moved fluidly with the door as it opened, drawing my blade as I moved. The old woman stepped through the door and turned around to close it behind her, never noticing me. I stepped forward, stifling her scream and shoving the blade into her kidneys in the same motion. I yanked my blade out hard, throwing her lifeless form against the door, where she fell to the floor. I cleaned my blade off on her dress before touching the coin to her blood and placing it in her boney hand. Not much loss there. Nobody really liked her anyway.

Now I had to do the hardest part of the kill. I had to pretend that I had just found the body and had to inform the others in a panic-stricken and horrified manner. It was difficult for me because it took a lot of self control to keep from smiling when they took the bait. I did what had to be done and ran to find the Nord surprisingly alone. He said the rich whelp had gone off to brood somewhere. The Nord and I ran back to the body to take in the grizzly scene. As I hoped, the Nord's anger flared. He started ranting about how he had figured it out now and that it was the rich boy's fault. He spouted something about having to kill him for our own protection before he grabbed by blade from its sheath and ran off to another part of the house. I stayed close and followed him to a corner of the bottom floor where the whelp was sulking. The Imperial turned around just in time for the Nord to stab him in the chest three times. He fell to the floor with a stunned look frozen on his face. I just watched the spectacle, in awe at how the overwhelming power of fear could cut through rational thinking like a knife.

The Nord stood there catching his breath over the Imperial's body for a long moment. He finally turned to me and announced that we were safe now. Relishing the irony of the moment, I congratulated him as I grabbed his hand with my blade in it. I cranked his hand around, breaking his wrist and jamming my blade up into his ribcage by way of his stomach. He glared at me through the pain as the betrayal was fully realized in his mind. After a moment, the glare faded into a blank stare as he slipped from his mortal coil and into the Void. I pulled my blade from his body as he fell to the floor with a final gasp. I touched two coins with blood, one in the Imperial's, one in the Nord's, and left them in the appropriate hands.

I walked into the middle of the room, fresh blood running from my blade to the floor, and looked around. It had been a good day. My blade's unending thirst for blood had been quenched for now. All five guests had been eliminated, one way or another. One of them I had not killed personally, but I left my marker all the same. My blade had tasted his blood, and I was indirectly responsible for his death. A sadistic smile curled across my lips. Five marks, five markers, all of them my doing. My blade had tasted their blood, and Sithis had been pleased. I unlocked the door and left the manor to go collect my payment. It had been a very good day.


End file.
